Category: Being human

Reflections that focus on life in general and more specifically on what it means to be a human being!

Categories
Being human Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine

The Storm: An amazing story from my grandfather. Learning to live through and face the storms in life.

Sarah and I were driving back to Virginia from a visit home to Michigan when we stopped to see my grandparents. We sat at their dining room table as we talked. As we did so they started talking about what things were like when they were a young couple.  

That was when we heard about the storm.

My grandfather was a fisherman in the UP (Upper Peninsula of Michigan). The day of the storm he was alone out on Lake Michigan working his fishing nets. Without warning dark clouds came in quickly and enveloped him. Waves of rain came dumping down in sheets. He quickly finished what he was doing with his nets, started his boat, put it into gear and headed for shore.  The waves grew bigger and bigger as the rain poured down on him. His boat started to fill with water. He pushed the throttle all the way forward, hoping to get home as quickly as possible. This was a simple fishing boat, however, and it was not powered or designed to move fast. Things got worse. The rain was falling in sheets that poured down into his boat. Waves broke over the stern filling the boat with water. 

“I looked around and I didn’t even have a bucket or anything to bail water with. All I had was my hands,”  he said.

I found myself subconsciously cupping my hands as though to help throw water from his boat. 

He kept motoring to home as fast as the boat would go but it seemed like he was fighting a losing battle. The waves were breaking over the sides of the boat, and it started sinking lower and lower into the water. The water was getting so deep in the boat that the gunwales (upper sides of the boat) grew close to the water line. Once they reached the water line there would be nothing keeping the boat afloat. He eventually decided that his situation was hopeless. He was too far from shore. His boat was going to sink. 

What was he to do? One thing was clear: What he was currently doing wasn’t helping.  He pulled the throttle back to idle as he thought about his options. “I started looking for anything on the boat that would float,” he continued.

I had not heard this story before. I was riveted. I sat up in my chair as I listened and once again, I found myself wanting to cup my hands and throw water from the boat hoping to rescue my grandfather. I imagined myself on the boat, looking around to see if there was anything to grab that would float. What would I have done? He had a young wife and children at home. Where they ever going to see him again? He was in a desperate situation. 

He continued with his story.

Once he pulled the throttle back to idle, a surprising thing happened. The bow of the boat dropped down and the stern settled higher in the water. The gunwales rose just a little bit higher above the water line. The stern of his boat was floating better, and the waves were lifting and passing around and under the stern rather than dumping into and filling the boat. The storm he was trying to outrun, started to pass over him and move ahead of him.

By “giving up” and doing the opposite of what seemed logical he had saved himself. The storm passed, and he was able to motor slowly back to his dock. He was shaken and wet but otherwise perfectly fine.

He had been doing what any of us would do when the storm came: He was trying to flee and get to safety. By doing that however, ironically, he was putting himself and his boat into peril. It was only after he accepted his fate (the need to go through the storm regardless of the consequences) that he and his boat were saved. 

It makes me think. Do I run away from the storms of life, or do I stay and deal with them? Do I flee, doing whatever I can to avoid conflict, or do I stay and face it?  

I hate conflict. I enjoy peace. I have learned that I am much more likely to try to calm things down in a tense situation then live or work through them.  When conflict comes up, I routinely push the throttle all the way forward hoping to get away from conflict as quickly as I can rather than turning to face the storm.

What is the correct answer? There is no hard and fast rule here of course.  If you are out on the big lake and a storm comes in, the best answer generally is to start your motor and get to a safe harbor as quickly as you can. 

But not always.

Wisdom means that we need to know that there are times to steer clear of conflict and there are times to embrace it. Sometimes we need to go through the storm to get to the other side. That is a hard lesson for a “conflict avoider” like me. I have had to learn to recognize this tendency (at times a true deficiency) in myself and learn that it may be important for me to push myself to do what is best in each situation. 

Let me share an example:  I am sitting in a meeting when a clear conflict arises. Things are getting tense. People are shifting in their chairs. My natural tendency is to rush in as a mediator, trying to smooth things over and calm them down, and hopefully cover over the conflict. But conflict is sometimes the only way to get to a solution.  There are times when we need to live through it. In these times the answer might be as simple as closing my mouth, sitting on my hands, and letting everything develop. 

In other words, instead of trying to flee the storm, I need to pull the throttle back to idle. I must make the conscious choice to live through the storm rather than avoid it. The situation can become tense and uncomfortable. The dark clouds, the thunder and the waves can be frightening. But it is only by going through the storm that we get safely to the other side. 

It might seem possible to run away from problems but the relief may be only temporary. The problem hasn’t been solved and can keep coming back. In that situation, running away doesn’t help. It only delays the solution. The best thing is to go ahead and deal with it. Instead of running, hiding, or ignoring the problem, it might be better to pull the throttle to idle and focus on what needs to be done. Make the phone call. Have the conversation. Or let the situation develop around you so that you can then deal with it or live through it, rather than having it just chase you.

Sarah has taught me the, “Can we talk?” technique. She says that she will throw that phrase out and then she is committed. It is her way of pulling the throttle back to idle and turning around to face the storm. She says that there are times when you need to walk through the chaos so that you can get to what is good on the other side.

It was great that day that my grandparents shared the story of the storm (and a few other storms) with us. It was amazing sitting with them in their kitchen having them reminisce on what life was like when they were young (like we were as we listened to their stories). I loved it. It was so valuable to us to learn more about them and their lives. It helped me see them differently. There was so much depth and so many experiences that made up who they were. They had been through many storms and events in their life. They lived through the storms. They came out on the other side.  

In life, storms will come, and storms will go. Often it is perfectly fine to run for shelter. Sometimes that is not the answer. Sometimes you need to turn and face the storm. By the grace of God, you can live through the storm. My grandparents did. Most of us have lived through many storms. 

You can live through the storm, face it and come out okay on the other side. You might even be better because of it. 

And you may have a wonder of a story to tell your children and grandchildren after you do. 

Categories
Being human Medicine Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine

Knowledge Part 3: “Boy, what are you doing?”

I ate barbecued ribs today.

As I did so my memory went back to many years ago. I was at a food court and there was a barbecue place that had ribs. I settled into a seat in the food court with my plate. I struggled with a little plastic fork and knife as I tried to carve up my ribs. It seems that I was being watched by a cleaning woman. Eventually she pushed her cart closer toward me and then walked over to me.

“Boy?!” she said to me. “What are you doing?!”

I was somewhat startled, but I politely answered, “I am eating ribs.”

“No you ain’t. You might think you be eatin ribs, but whatever you are doin, that ain’t eatin ribs.”  She walked over to the utensil area and grabbed a huge stack of napkins. She plopped them on the table in front of me.  “Now boy, you roll up them sleeves.” She waited for me to unbutton and then roll up my sleeves to above my elbows. “That’s right. You pull them sleeves way up. Now get rid of that fork. You get in there with your hands and you get messy!!” 

I can still hear her voice in my head with how she said the word, “messy” dragging it out in a way that I could instantly picture myself with barbecue sauce all over my face, hands, and arms. 

I said, “yes ma’am,” and dug in and started ripping the ribs apart and eating away. She came back a few minutes later to check on me.  “Now you got it! Now you be eaten ribs!”  She walked away with a smile, having done her good deed for the day.

Today, I walked by the napkin dispenser and pulled and pulled to get enough napkins. I sat down and I felt warm inside thinking back on my formal training by the expert instructor in eating ribs. “Get messy!” I laughed quietly to myself. 

I learned valuable lessons that day. Yes, I learned how to eat ribs, but I learned much more important things than that. Before she spoke with me, I hadn’t really noticed or paid any attention to her. After she did, I was forced to see her and in seeing her it was clear that there was a lot to her. She had her own passions and interests. She had an entire life of experiences that I knew nothing about. What was there about her that would push her to correct a naïve young west Michigan boy and teach him how to properly eat his ribs?

Even now I wonder about her back story. Who was she really? What was her life like? What was her family like? Who did she love? What did she like or not like? Who was she?

It seems that day I learned:

  1. How to eat ribs.
  2. The complexity of each and every person. There is wisdom that can be learned from every person I come in contact with. I often foolishly ignore it, focused so much on myself, my interests, my worries. Could I be so wise as to look and listen instead? Could I go from being the customer thinking about my day, my activities, and my food and for an instant learn from the person cleaning up for me?
  3. I learned about passion and pride and enjoyment of life. She couldn’t stand to let me eat my ribs wrong. She was a professional when it came to ribs. She didn’t need a title or formal training. She was a professional because she took pride in it.

It reminded me of another incident. In 1987 I was accepted in the Navy scholarship program for medical school. At that time, I stood in the recruiter’s office in Lansing in front of the American flag and a picture of Ronald Reagan, raised my right hand, and was sworn in as an officer. I didn’t know anything about the military. In 1988 I went to OIS (Officers Indoctrination School) in Newport Rhode Island. OIS was the 6-week training for the doctors, dentists, nurses, lawyers and hospital administrators. OIS was the school to teach us to be the officers that we had already been declared to be. Since we were already officers this was not the usual “boot camp” where you enter as a nobody and slowly gain rank. Instead of drill sergeants, we had more senior officers as our instructors. We still had to do physical fitness training, run floor buffers, clean windowsills with Q-tips, etc. We also had to do close order drill (marching).  We were expected to march to and from each class. If 3 or more of us were walking somewhere we were expected to get in formation and march instead of just walking. 

One day Charlie company was marching back from class. Our formation marched up to the residence hall. We came to a halt and attention before we disassembled to go inside. As we did so, a US Marine gunnery sergeant leaned out of an upper floor window. 

He called down to us, “What are you doing? No disrespect, sirs, but what are you doing?” 

Our leader called back to him, “We are marching back from class.” 

The marine called back to us again, “Well that may be what you think you were doing but I know marching and what you were doing was not marching. I don’t mean any disrespect, but marching is my life and whatever you are doing is hurting me!” 

We laughed a bit but then invited him to come down and talk with us. We admitted that we really didn’t know much about marching. We asked him if he would be willing to help us. The next day he took us out onto a hot paved area (“the grinder”). He marched us back and forth and left and right and starting and stopping. He talked to us about the techniques and disciplines of close order drill. I don’t know that we ever got quite as good as he would have liked but by the end of our little training session, he told us that  we were doing a lot better. We thanked him for his time and the rest of our time in training, Charlie company worked just a little bit harder on our form whenever we marched. At the end of our training there was a competition and partly thanks to our marine gunnery sergeant expert, Charlie company won the award.

I learned that day when the gunnery sergeant called down to us. Certainly, I learned about close order drill, but just like in the food court, I learned more important lessons. Both incidents taught me of the multiple forms and shapes that wisdom takes in life.  There is so much that I can learn from others. Both people had lived completely different experiences than me. Sometimes because of our years of college and medical training, people expect us to be wise about life. The truth is that often my patients or the other people who are working with me have great wisdom in areas that I lack. 

I wish I could go back and find the cleaning woman. If I could, I would love to sit and listen to her. I would hope to just let her tell me stories and teach me about her background, her love for good barbecue and somehow to get a glimpse into her world. Maybe then I could learn just a little bit more about the wisdom of how to enjoy the good things in my life.

I think of the gunnery sergeant. He too was an expert with real wisdom. I loved his passion and professionalism. He wasn’t just doing a job. He wasn’t just a drill sergeant. He insisted on pushing himself to excellence. There is so much that I could learn from him about his discipline, patriotism, and pride in what he did. Maybe if I could have more time and training from him, I too would have a better understanding of the wisdom of excellence.  Maybe I could understand that it doesn’t matter as much what you do but how you do it. 

My patient was 91 years old. His daughter brought him to see me as a new patient. I spoke with him about his symptoms, did a physical exam, reviewed all his labs and testing, and then made some changes in his treatment. I was about to the leave the room when I stopped myself. “By the way, what did you do for a living?” I asked him. 

“I was a chemist,” he replied.

As we spoke, I discovered that he had PhD in chemistry. He was an expert in colors and dyes. He had his PhD from Ohio State and had a long career in industry. His daughter had, like me, graduated from Hope College. I talked with them about my BA in chemistry from Hope. There was a lot more to him than just another 91-year-old with heart failure. I bet I could learn a lot from him. Over the few years that he was my patient, I looked forward to each visit. It saddened me to see his eventual decline, but we enjoyed each visit together as colleagues and friends.

Today I was eating ribs. 

I picked up some more of the ribs. The barbecue sauce was now all over my hands and squeezed into the space under my fingernails. I had barbecue sauce on my cheeks. “Now you get in there and you get messy!” I laughed to myself. In that moment I didn’t worry about the mess. I decided to enjoy it all. For you see I have been trained in how to eat ribs by an expert.